DarkElf in the 1st Age of the Sun
by Lothithil
Summary: The Adventures of Morlothiel the DarkElf in the 1st Age. A series of loose poetry mutating slowly into story. A personal exploration of the events that shaped Middle earth.
1. Ch 1: DarkElf Flees

**DarkElf Flees**

A new adventure for me this night  
The luck of the hunter is elsewhere  
I stumble to a knee beside a weeping spring  
To wash the bloodsmell from my garments  
I feel the predators are near  
They will not so easily give up the kill _(I wouldn't!)_  
My closest ally is the dawn  
Perhaps her rays will scatter the pack

_I must keep moving..._


	2. Ch 2: DarkElf is Pursued

**DarkElf is Pursued**

Mould and leaves beneath my feet  
I cannot to the tree-tops escape  
For they climb as well as any Elf  
and their noses are keen  
Speed and light are my only allies  
With one hand I grip my bare steel  
The other holds together what they left of me  
When we met earlier this night

What new vile gift to the earth  
From Morgoth is this abomination?

I run like wind weaving the boles  
They follow as sure as shadows  
As if the tardy Sun were in my face  
_don't look back, don't stumble,  
don't think of death_

Like leeches of Angmar  
They cling to my trail  
I must lose them in this forest north of Doriath

Here I gamble to find some horror  
That makes prey of predators  
And thus win my game of chance.


	3. Ch 3: DarkElf at Bay

**DarkElf at Bay**

It is here that I must make my stand  
Lest my open back be the invitation  
I can run no further...  
And the aged Dawn has brought no relief  
Still the foes are at my heels  
They shake off the light from their  
Dark furry cloaks; it touches them not  
Their eyes gleam as if with flames  
And the stench of them is charnel

My blade is steady as I turn  
And at my back a wide bole  
Let them come now!

But even as they leap to meet  
The singing arc of my steel  
I see the forest fill with light  
And... they shine! like stars descending  
Fair and tall, with  
A glow of marvelous beauty  
They intercept the shadow-cats  
And the game is over

The rough bark beneath  
My grateful fingers  
Is a comforting couch  
As I sink into a dream in Doriath


	4. Ch 4: DarkElf is Healed

**DarkElf is Healed**

Suspended between the worlds  
I dream...

These are not the pale visions  
Such as Mortals are said to have:  
Fragments of reason and fear  
It is the world unfolding before my listless gaze,  
And I cannot look away

The darkness  
An enfolding wave of peace  
I think that I am to fly here,  
But no...  
My movement is arrested  
_Ropes of Silver  
Soft as gentle words  
A woven net of light_  
And I am caught therein

They are all around me, these spirits  
My bretheren once departed  
Light plays over them  
Among them, I am an eclipse  
Hands I do not feel  
_Lift me  
_Words I cannot understand  
_Comfort me_  
The healing begins


	5. Ch 5: The Queen of Doriath

**DarkElf meets Melian, Queen of Doriath **

One there is among them  
Brilliant is her Flame  
I can only beg for the Mercy  
That I have never shown  
As she touches me with burning hands  
All my pain is changed

And I hear... _music?_  
Voices calling from beneath the Sea  
An eye opens within my mind  
And I view through another's recall  
The beauty of a tree of gold  
And a tree of silver

And then I am back in myself  
Aching and whole  
Now become more than I was


	6. Ch 6: DarkElf Wakes

**DarkElf Wakes**

_"Thou art awake, Moonflower?"_

My eyes, unlidded now unveiled  
The shining spirit before me speaks  
His words are strange, his face is kind  
He offers me a restorative drink

_"Allow me to help thee- Thy wounds are but newly mended."_

My limbs scream to me that I yet live  
A riddle most profound, considering...  
Here is a riddle more perplexing:  
Where am I now?

_"'Tis_ miruvor. _It will ease thy discomfort. Thou art in Menegroth, Kingdom of Thingol and Melian. Thou art safe..."_

Images follow the words, I am o'erwhelmed  
Before the Dreaming takes me again,  
I reach out, because I must know  
If the vision of beauty that speaks is real.


	7. Ch 7: DarkElf Stands Enchanted

**The DarkElf Stands Enchanted**

Menegroth, a thousand caves of wonder  
I wander here as a guest  
The halls and chambers of stone  
Seem not carved, not hacked, not hewn  
_The rock breathes..._

And appears to have grown  
Beneath the loving hands of the shaper  
Granite trees and crystal blooms  
Neverchanging lights of yellow-white  
I am so delighted, I do not miss the sky yet  
Where are the stars?  
In the eyes of the Folk around me

They are so different from my own folk  
Some tall and fair, others dark and merry  
Most beautiful and grim; all burning  
With that light like I saw in my dream  
This queen from the West, she has changed them  
Touched them with grace, my own skin burns  
Will I ever again be the hunter in the dark?  
Have I lost that along with the blood I shed?

The walls seem closer, but still fair  
Is this a pretty prison for me?  
I must leave here as soon as I can  
But first, I must find him again


	8. Ch 8: DarkElf Ranges

**DarkElf Ranges**

The riddling caves of Doriath  
cannot compare with the stunning  
Beauty and Danger  
of the forest that girdles  
In the midnight watches  
when trees sparkle with star dew  
glowing softly with living light  
delighting these tender eyes;  
Their rinds are strong and warm  
Their limbs shapely and clean  
Leaves like laughter  
Roots like home

I could walk here forever in delight  
wary only of the wonder  
Snares there are  
both magical and natural;  
both ignore me  
My woodcraft is better than before...  
I can smell the wind change  
and I now perceive the spirits  
of things more clearly  
No longer vague shapes  
but vivid flames  
as though my eyes were new

I saw _**them**_ again--the lovers  
They meet in the forest, deep  
beneath the sighing trees  
She shines like a star  
He is dark like the face of the new moon  
But they are one  
I have watched them from my high,  
Observing their innocent play  
I've heard her sing; nightingales  
follow her to learn how  
He is strong, and true  
I have never met a Follower who burned so!  
He must be special indeed.

How long will their secret last?


	9. Ch 9: DarkElf Reflects

**Dark Elf Reflects**

I am stayed here for a while  
This gentle place  
Where the river they call Teiglin  
Flows past he mighty oaks  
Before joining the Sirion  
On its journey to the sea...

His tracks are clear to me  
But I am stayed by the Meres of Twilight  
Comfortably wrapt in the mists  
He had departed back to his own folk, they said  
The Shining One who I first saw  
I know not what drew me behind him  
Like a tardy shadow  
He is gone back to his own  
His errand is spent  
Like as not, I shall not see him again

Far I have come from the Hidden Kingdom  
To the very edge of the Girdle  
What use is there in return?  
They think me simple, "the Tongueless One"  
I heard all their speech  
And though I speak it not, I understand them  
Better than they I  
I could go home from here  
These Meres remind me of that  
Place of Awakening I have not seen  
For countless seasons  
There are hard lands between  
And so much to be seen beyond that river that sings

I will stay right here  
Until from the singing I learn my road.


	10. Ch 10: Taur en Faroth

**DarkElf in Taur-en-Faroth**

It is that one!  
The burning Man who loves the nightingale  
His face is of dark despair  
For one once so full of love

What has transpired to rift him  
From the side of Tinuviel?

Idly I follow as he wanders  
Down to the Falls  
And westward through the mists and rains  
To the Taur-en-Faroth  
I thought he meant to seek those dark trees  
_'Good council'_ thought I!

But not long were we on the plain  
Before the guarding ones descried us  
He ever oblivious to my accompaniment  
They respectful of the ring he held aloft  
Waylaid but not assailed, they lead him on

While stone-faced Elves bracket me  
I am escorted discreetly  
Until to the mighty underground fortress we come


	11. Ch 11: DarkElf Thwarted

**DarkElf Thwarted **

In the valley of the Rains a heavy mist lay  
No menace in my intent,  
I must think like the predator to follow  
This Guest, more like an Elf than a Man, he  
Seems to sense my presence  
Though he has not yet detected me

All of my skill it has taken  
To track him in this featureless heath  
Of muggy clumped dales and fog-shrouded dells  
Clusters of trees are few  
And filled with tiny birds that chatter angrily  
When he draw near them.

The hills draw nearer; he lifts a crafted band  
And announces himself  
To the unseen guardians of Taur-en-Faroth  
They meet and escort him onward, beyond my ken

My own welcome is tense  
Two Elves whom I could not guile  
Intercept my pursuit  
So far away my mark, they cannot guess my purpose,  
And I do not speak.  
Of Nargothrond they are, saying  
I must come thither  
As they allow me to retain my weapons, I comply  
That is where my road leads


	12. Ch 12: DarkElf Disarmed

**DarkElf**** Disarmed**

Dolven halls of magnificent strength  
Reached by a bridge as narrow as chance  
Arching in a single leap over a great gorge  
Of hungry water, stones like teeth

I am brought up to stand before another Elf

_"I am Gwaithion, guardian of the south and west marches, my lord. We found this one trespassing on the heath."_

Eyes slide over me, catching on nothing  
I am unremarkable

_"Looks like a refugee."_  
To me, _"What is the errand that brought you, dark one?"_

My silent, even regard is  
Reckoned insolent, I am disarmed  
The Elf examines my weapons

_"It has not spoken since taken. I thought it might be a spy."_

_"Is it refusing to speak, or incapable?"_

_"A mute spy?"_ Grim chuckling. _"Would even Morgoth use such a tool?"_

With no tool but my ire I attack my assailant  
My black glare makes the one named  
Fall silent in his humour

_"A mere wanderer. I will see it to the Gatepath and out of our lands. This cur is too trivial to disturb the Lord Finrod for justice."_

This other is not amused; he is canny

_"This matter warrants further thought. Leave us, Gwaithion. Your attention to duty is noted and shall be rewarded."_Are the words he speaks aloud

and

The words **_I_** hear are different:

'If thou must be a fool, Gwaithion, do not portray the role with joy'

He returns me my weapons,  
Proving he is the more dangerous one

_"You must be detained to attend Lord Finrod. He will deal justly with thee. Come with me and I will show you a place where you may rest."_

A generous room with round walls  
Open to the sky and chandeliered with stars  
I am left alone with my self  
He returns in time, and speaks with deference now

_"My Lord Finrod asks that the Lord Beren's scout be released and escorted to them now. Will you follow me?"_


	13. Ch 13: Tol in Gaurhoth

**DarkElf Goes to Tol-in-Gaurhoth**

By crisp nights we journey up Narog to the Falls  
The crownless King on his fated quest  
Evidence of my madness, but I must do this thing  
Though no bond nor blood holds me  
He is nobility high and his doom is clear to him  
Forsaken by his people  
But for a handful of loyal ones  
He will not abandon his oath by the ring  
I will not forsake Felegund

My fair and dangerous friend Edrahil  
Chief of Finrod's companions  
Now mimics a dark elf's soft tread  
Amused by my speechless eloquence  
Golden-haired exile and the killing shadow  
When we encounter the minions of the Dark Maiar  
We have the mastery

By art of the King from the west  
We are clad as blackfolk  
And travel thus swiftly toward our goal  
Too swiftly, and so for all our guile  
We are discovered, striped of our disguise  
And taken to His tower of fear

Standing in this pit  
My soul claws at the brink of insanity  
As I claw at the walls of this prison


	14. Ch 14: Darkelf Defiant

**DarkElf Defiant**

In a parody of mercy  
I am removed from my plot  
He wishes to lose no more wolves by my hands  
Or wring from my lips the sounds  
That even friend and kin have failed to obtain  
Is perhaps His goal

In a tower of hate and fear I am kept  
Beneath the stone many levels where the  
Mud is thick and clinging  
Slowly devouring the listless, soulless  
I fight and I scramble to keep above the deadly tide  
That draws and smothers and corrupts  
Making the puppets that Sauron employs  
For His Master's will and for His own desires  
Would he make a marionette of this flesh?  
He must master it first!

Cold anger and fear of death keeps me myself  
I watch others succumb, weeping  
Those years I spent on the hunt  
Every bounty I claimed  
Began here with a silent surrender  
Will I become the hunted one?  
How I would welcome a clean death, even now

I fight as I have always fought, as the unseen Sun  
Rises and falls again, bringing nothing  
But exhaustion and desperate strength.


	15. Ch 15: DarkElf Speaks

**DarkElf ****Speaks**

Fire and darkness choking life  
In my mind I am still clean  
I can reach that dream still  
As it came to me in Doriath  
Silver fruit and golden flowers  
Feeding my starved spirit as it flags  
Lifting me up above the mean things  
As though I weighed no more than a prayer  
Nailed still to the cruel earth  
I am not free yet

Holding the wolves at bay  
Somewhere, there is a voice singing of light  
Making the stone shiver off it's shadows  
Rippling and twisting the shape of things  
And the baying of a great hound  
Belling a challenge to all

Unmarked by my wardens who stand aghast  
I inveigle my escape, but am  
Brought up quickly by a great battle  
Watch as the Hound of Valinor  
Brings the Werewolf to ground

I would have screamed my defiance  
When she offered a choice of doom  
What need has He of life? What right?  
What of the lives of Edrahil and my companions,  
Countless others, and...  
no... oh, no...

and at last, falling from my lips like tears  
"Heru nen. Otorno..."

Sitting on a green hill  
In a cleansed land  
I raise my voice at last in a song  
That I learned from a nightingale.

Quote from the Silmarillion:  
_But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the  
trees in Eldermar _


	16. Ch 16: DarkElf Decides

**DarkElf Decides**

Scars from battle I have  
Notches on my bow  
Aching heart from passion spent  
Or gulfs of time unused  
No pain or injury have I had before  
To compare with this killing sorrow

That he is gone, I grieve  
They say he walks again  
In fields of gold 'neath trees of silver  
With the ones he loves  
Cold comfort is that to me  
I do not walk there  
Nor do I see the gardens  
Nor hear the music, except in a memory  
That belongs to another,  
Borrowed or stolen  
When that dream fades will my grief also?  
Yet another gift from Eru  
That I must suffer

I sit on a green mound  
It might me by own, but that I lie upon it  
Not beneath  
Will I linger here until the Undoing  
Or will I set myself in motion again?  
Feed my furnace of hate  
And seek revenge for my wronged lord  
My fire is ashes now  
My sword is dull  
Why fight the shadows when the Dark is to blame?  
What can one elf do against Bauglir  
But break herself on his iron feet?

I watch them ride away  
She sitting upon the great hound  
Leans down to kiss the Man  
Who walks at her side  
They go on to seek their fate  
On to wherever in the Darkness the paths lead them  
They will go willingly together

Unburdened by this I set my own feet on a path  
That leads I know not, nor care  
A grey stone hones my blade and  
The rising sun warms my back.


	17. Ch 17: DarkElf goes Astray

**DarkElf goes Astray**

These hills wandering, folded earth  
Rippling beneath the mountain's feet  
Scarcely aware of where I am going  
Navigating by the wind of whim  
Finding diversion in every flower  
And standing for long hours staring  
Stars above are stubbornly unchanged  
Since my world fell

With stench and harsh cries they are upon me  
Swiftly, but my sword is never far from hand  
And as the orcs surge forward  
I feel again the singing in limb and heart  
Beginning the dance with dark partners  
No longer locked in silence, I echo my excitement  
In a wordless song that stings the hills  
Reaping the foul harvest with thirsty steel  
Until only one stands

The orc wounded and disarmed  
It regards me with cunning  
For I am weary for the work  
I stand breathing but frozen in intent  
How close did I come to being this creature?  
Does not my own heart writhe with hatred  
And do not I abhor the shadows that have shaped me  
Tainting my once-fair dreams with poison?  
Within a hair's-breadth did I come to this  
And now my hand is held, and my heart is troubled  
Eyes meet eye across the blood-stained battleground  
What have I become? Always I have hunted and slain  
But now I know fully the despair of the Lost  
Can this be undone? Are the Lords of the West  
Powerful enough to heal this disease?

Smelling my weakness, the orc lunges  
And takes from me my sword  
Unfettered by conscious, steel leaps  
And another soul is freed  
But I am left with cold comfort of life  
And a soul sick with doubt


	18. Ch 18: DarkElf Rises

**DarkElf Rises**

Weary as I have never been  
I sit me down to dream  
On a hill green and blooming  
Amid a forest where evil walks  
Thick as trees, they swarm here  
So that my blade is never dry  
I am fighting my way back to the lands  
Where the Kings hold sway  
Hoping for respite from the slaying  
My thirst for vengeance has waned  
I cannot smother the fire with blood  
Nor re-awaken those cut down  
Though for many years now I have done naught else  
Sun falls and darkness claims  
The forest and my heart

So here I am, lurking on another grave  
Waiting for my turn to lie in peace

I must shake off this black feeling!  
The work of Morgoth will be done too easily  
If I slay myself with mournful thoughts!  
To my feet and to the shadows...  
Fleet through the trees as a squirrel  
Weaves falling moonbeams  
I race along the leafy paths  
My heart beating with new vigor and life

Somewhere westward I heard a distant horn  
And ever there is circling great birds  
Above the distant mountains  
Though closer than I wish to the path  
Once I trod with Felegund, I go that way  
My hands and feet delight in the fresh trees  
Unsullied and strangely free of foes  
I climb heartily, the mountain my highway  
To the twinkling stars  
Where crisp wind carries and  
Rain falls sweet and cold

Nearing the craggy top now  
A sport to climb to the highest point  
The rocks are slick with ice  
Air thin and intoxicating  
I see the swift approach of shadow  
Thinking it but a cloud hurrying past  
Until giant talons catch me up  
Long scythes sharp as dragon's teeth  
Encircled in the predator's grip  
I am torn from my perch  
And born away to whatever fate  
Awaits the prey of Eagles


	19. Ch 19: DarkElf Learns to Fly

Note from Loth:  
_I depart again from my usual structureless poetry for this section, to explore my reverence to the Great Eagles of Manwe, from whom descended the heroic Gwaihir. The sight of these mighty birds never fails to instill respect and love in my heart.  
_

**DarkElf Learns To Fly**

A soft grey mouse  
In the grip of the Eagle  
Encircled by the great talons  
But spared their bite  
I writhe above the world  
Falling away from me as I am borne  
Wind bludgeons tears from my eyes  
And all I hear is the snap of wing  
Feathers humming and the crush of the air  
Beneath mighty pinions  
And a great thundering sound  
The beating of a heart  
Deep as the dwellings of the Noegyth  
Drowning out even the quaking  
Of my own frail pulse

If I could breathe, then the air  
Might taste sweet so far over the sphere  
And if ice did not cover my face  
I might see even Valinor as we sweep  
I fancy that I see stars  
Hanging about me as I fly  
Defying the force that pulls me  
If he let me go, I might soar on my own

I am lying on cold stone, aware once more  
Voices speaking near and over me  
A wall of gold and grey  
Body shaking, I am freezing  
Words are sound without meaning  
A warmth covers me,  
Heavy but comforting  
And the drumming beat of a great heart  
Drowns all, except...

"Be careful, wing-sister! You will damage the Child!" Deep resonant voice.

"Be silent, Thorondor!" A softer voice but louder, for it was so near, it seemed right above. "I have sat more nests than you could know, and never once crushed a shell."

A rustle of wings, "I did not say so, but she has no shell so I repeat 'be careful'. Lord Turgon will want to speak to her, I am sure."

"Then greater care should you have taken, Lord of Eagles, so that she did not succumb to the cold and airless heights! You know that the Firstborn are hearty, but still they do not fly and they have no feathers to warm them. Wisdom has failed you, my Lord." Heavy sarcasm in the soft voice, and a snapping noise followed, as of a great beak closing quickly in annoyance.

"Feather your nest with thorny down! I am not here to listen to your impertinence! Care for her and keep her here, and I will return. And do not hatch her like an egg, sister; The Lord of Gond Dolen does not care for too many guests at once!" A swoosh of driven wind, and then silence broken only by a snapping click and soft grumbling.


	20. Ch 20: DarkElf Leaves the Nest

**DarkElf Leaves the Nest**

Among the happiest moments of a long dark life  
These days I have spent in this eyrie  
Close enough to the firmament to see Varda's stars  
Even in the blaze of day  
At the very top of the world it is cold  
And my head is always light, as though I were  
Still dreaming  
I cling to the edge of the nest in the wind  
And implore Iluvatar to hear me

Gwyen tolerates my singing  
Sharing the food that the wings bring  
As she sits upon her eggs  
Weaving deftly a cloak for me  
From her smallest silken feathers  
She tells me tales out of the West  
And names the Valar and Eru  
My ears are full of wonder  
I lay against her to keep the chill  
From reaching my bones as we wait  
For the pleasure of Turgon

His wingspan is the greatest  
A thundercloud faster than the wind  
Even burdened he soars with grace  
Landing lightly on the stone ledge  
His eyes are yellow and alien  
And I feel the fear of the rabbit  
As they look coldly upon me  
His beak is strong and his voice is deafening  
But contains none of the contempt of his regard:

"I bring one from the Hidden Rock to speak to you," he announced, and sliding down from his proud back appears an Elf. Dwarfed by the massive raptor, he walks around the Lord of the Eagles and comes to stand before me.

"I thought it might be thee, when Lord Thorondor arrived to with his tidings." Golden-haired and noble, fair of face surpassing all kindred I have known save one; he was the shining one who woke me from dreaming. "My name is Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, and I am a captain of Turgon's host. He has sent me to bring you to Gondolin, for you cannot now return to the lands without, having come this far."

He turned to speak to Thorondor, expecting me not to reply, but my words stayed him swiftly. "It was not my will to come at all," I answered coldly, "If I wished to live in bondage, I would have remained in the East."

He turned back to me, surprise and pleasure on his face, and my stubborn heart melted. His words placated me further. "The city is my home, and home of many Elves. And there is structured beauty and wildness both within the realm. Wilt thou come? I would show thee all that we have wrought, and our land is free of the stain of Morgoth." His eyes were gentle and his hand upon my elbow. "Wilt thou come?"

"I will come," I answered softly, though I turned away from his beckoning hand. To Gwyen I went and reaching up as high as I could, I embraced the mothering hen-eagle. Gracefully she bent her great neck and gently laid her beak upon my shoulder. She then draped round me a cloak of soft down, and I pinned it at my throat with a sharpened bone.

At Glorfindel's imploring, I agreed to be blinded and bound. Strangely, this made the flight far more comfortable than the last. Strong arms held me firmly perched upon the broad feathered back and my cloak warmed me as for hours seeming we were lifted and sped through the oceans of the air. Glorfindel spoke in my ear, his face close to mine and his voice just above the scream of the wind, speaking of the city to which we were bound, and the King that I would soon meet.


	21. Ch 21: DarkElf Meets Turgon

**The DarkElf Meets Turgon**

The leaguer of Gondolin has not been broken  
Says Glorfindel in my ear  
Himself alone and some few messengers  
The King trusts to travel without  
Always by the avenues of the sky,  
And by secret in the darkness  
My eyes covered, I will have some hope  
Of leaving Tumladen if I choose  
And if the King permits it  
I am assured that it will not be  
By my own wish that I leave

As my eyes are freed, and the morning  
Breaks over the green hill  
Reluctantly I agree  
This land is more beautiful  
Than any I have yet seen  
Like an echo from the vision  
That illuminates my mind  
A glass city on a great mound  
Nestled in a valley of warmth and colour  
Encircled by mountains strong  
Bones of the Earth, a fence of stone teeth  
And all within music and light

Seven circles has his city  
And Seven gates to pass  
Each greater and more lovely  
And stronger and attended  
No place had I afore seen that measured  
Abreast to this display of strength  
Stream winding down into the valley  
Fresh as green spring here in the midst of winter  
What power does this King possess  
To turn aside the weather?  
I walk in a trance of wonder  
Heeding little else but the vision  
To my dark eyes almost painfully fair

Thorondor is gone with my stammered thanks  
Watching him fly, I am filled with regret  
That I could not remain with his folk  
Where I had found an acceptance and love  
Previouly unknown  
But I am not sad, indeed I am smiling  
And my bow is unstrung, my hands untied  
In this place maybe I have found a haven  
I have seen the strength of the Darkness  
But it seems now diminished by this Valley of Light  
Surely nothing can stain this jewel?  
Eagerly I follow my shining guide  
As he leads me into the streets that thread  
The gleaming towers of Gondolin

"My Lord Turgon is waiting in the city." We are walking now, past the last gate, and I am robbed of words to describe the wonder I see. Casually Glorfindel steers me by the elbow, for my feet falter as each corner is turned and a new marvel revealed. "He is eager to speak with you, for his only news comes from Lord Thorondor, and the Eagles' news is somewhat bare of meat for the tastes of the king," Glorfindel chuckled.

And he leads me to an exquisite garden. Three Elves wait there. My eyes fall upon a maiden, so sweetly lovely that I am suddenly shy, consious of my own rough garments of raw leather and weave, and the soil upon my hands and face. Yet no disgust or reproach is in her countanence; she welcomes me, and smiles gently at my flushed face. "Idril, daughter of the King."

Beside her is a tall Elf, so close in appearence to her that I see that they are near kindred. He is regal, commanding and wise. I bow as I learned in Doriath my best greeting but I am clumsy, and I hear a whisper of mocking laughter from behind the King as I stammer a greeting. "My Lord Turgon, King of the Gondolin." He looks upon me with interest, and my burning embarassment subsides under his kindly regard.

Fair also, face and hand strong and noble-looking, he stands behind Turgon and offers only a smirk in greeting. Glorfindel names him, "Maeglin, sister-son of Turgon," and I instantly am filled with a loathing so strong my hand moves on its own, seeking the hilt of my blade. Glorfindel's hand closes on my arm; his eyes are puzzled.

Thoughts of stone; I build a barrier between myself and the one called Maeglin. I can feel him trying to see inside my head, and read my thoughts. A frown creases his fair skin when he finds that he cannot do so.

I turn again to the King. My sword I draw, and I lay it upon the stones before Turgon's feet. "Lord, I am at your service. I seek refuge and respite in your fair land, and swear ever to keep it's secrets. Your enemies are my enemies."

Turgon spoke then, and his voice was not unlike deep melodies of singing water. "You shall abide here, and be welcome. But sit now and tell me all that you have seen and heard, for ever I hunger for news of the world. Tell me, what news of Fingon, my brother?"

"Of Fingon I know nothing, lord, save what the Hen-eagle told. Came I most recently from Orodreth's ruined tower, where I saw the ending of Lord Finrod Felegund." And my tears run still, from out of my wounded heart.

Maeglin's eyes glinted darkly and he spoke softly in Turgon's ear, but all the while his eyes wandered between me and the king's daughter. A longing unwholesome I saw when his glance touched her, and I cut him with my own stare. His regard was like the laughing of a wolf. "Beware, lord! Those captured by Gorthaur are said ever to serve him still, entralled by his dark power."

Not even the closeness and speed of Glorfindel can intercept my action. Swift as a striking snake, I take up my sword and face Maeglin, mute with fury.

Turgon stands between us, and my anger ebbs. "I have taken your sword," he said. "Slay only those I command of you." To Maeglin he spoke then, and those his words were gentle, sterness grounded them. "If she were a thrall then the Lord of Eagles, Manwe's own lieutenants, would have smote her body upon the mountains, and ended her in pity. I can see that she is no slave, nor would ever abide in captivity. Like my sister, Aredhel she seems, both wilfull and loyal. Stay your tongue, Maeglin, and speak only greetings to..." Turgon turned then to me, and asked kindly, "By what name are you called?"

My eyes seek my boot-tops, and Glorfindel steps forward with grace. "My Lord, she is know as Morlothiel, for in the darkness before the Sun she bloomed in the valley of Cuivienen, and from there she has fought the dark leagues alone, striving always against the Foe."

Turgon took my hand, and placed his hands around mine on the hilt of my worn sword. "Welcome to Gondolin, Morlothiel."


	22. Ch 22: DarkElf on the Field of Swords

**DarkElf on the Field of Swords**

Stand on the highest tower in Gondolin  
And look you out over this marvel;  
As ripples in a crystal pool  
The rings of the city spread  
And light flows through the walls  
And fountains spill in the squares  
And music echoes in the halls  
A chorus of thousands of fair voices  
Not competing but in harmony

Delicate as a fish-bubble it appears  
But in it's very bones are strength  
The green fields are venue for contest  
Early morn until beyond the dusk  
Armour shine on breast and helm  
Swords gleam in the light, and bowstring sing  
Horses run with riders, calling  
Sport and practice war  
As beautiful to dark eyes as tapestries  
And I am drawn there

In his company I have spent  
Moments like years to memory's purchase  
And of a day of brilliant sun  
I shielded myself beneath a woven visor  
And went forth alone with my blue-bladed sword  
To find a willing fight  
An Elf can sharpen her sword only  
So many times, then she must hone herself

Like dancers they partner, leaping and whirling  
With blades flashing and armour ringing  
I wander about, and find no nod or hailing hand  
The warriors of Turgon are wary of me yet  
Dressed in my fur and leather gear  
So I sit and watch, and learn from the seeing  
And my hands itch for the weight of my weapon.

"I will partner you, DarkElf," a voice calls, and I stand, squinting against the light off of a white cloak and silver breastplate that dazzles my shaded eyes.

"My Lady Idril." I bow, and she laughs and returns the respect.

"When I dress in armour for warsport, you hardly need call me Lady," she said, taking my arm and leading me toward the center of the floor. "You may call me Rondhiel while we fight."

The warriors of Turgon practiced their sword and hand-fighting on a green sward of grass not far from the outside of the innermost gate. Here the sun did gleam above the trees of shade, and catch full the polished metal and set it ablaze. I tilt my head up, throwing off the shade to ready myself for action, tho I cannot bring myself to draw first on her. "You wish to fence with me, Rondheil? What can a DarkElf teach one such as you? I employ the stealth and hunger of the predator in my style. I would learn the way of the singing blade that your father's soldiers use."

Idril drew out her long sword, and the blade was etched and glowed fair and deadly, and she become no lady in my eyes, but Rondhiel indeed, and my blade leapt in my hand and I crouched and turned as she circled. "I can teach you this way, if you will promise me that you will spar with me until I declare a halt, or first blood is drawn."

A protest on my lips is lost in her first lunge. I leap and sprawl to avoid ending the fight with my own spilling, and my doubts I fling away with my hat. She is armoured and swings her long sword like a dancer piroettes to the flute. I wind my cloak around my arm and test her, finding no gap in her defense. Our laughter and shouts clear the floor, and the warriors watch in awe and shock as the king's daughter teaches the DarkElf to run.

"Morlothiel, you must not be afraid to strike at me! Your blade has not touched me once! How can I learn if you don't return?" She spoke evenly as she laid about me with her hand of steel, and I leaped and dodged and sang back.

"Rondhiel, if there were an opening through which I could strike, I would mark your fair skim but slightly, for only a brief chance to pause and draw breath. But you have the mastery of me."

She snorted, and pressed an attack. "Nonsense! You are not trying! Attack me! Do not treat me like a lady! When I have Hadhafang at your throat, you will not see me as a lady."

I beat aside her attack, and returned with a sweeping leg that brought her to the ground, and her sword flew from her hand. I spun and brought my blade around, but was stayed suddenly by a dozen sharp points that bared my way to the princess. I froze and lowered my weapon.

Idril laughed and stood up, dusting herself. "Release her! What do you mean, interrupting our practice? I was just about to learn her secrets! Away and be off!" She chased the warriors away, and gave me her gloved hand. I took it with a smile, and ducked as Hadhafang sang where my head had been. I pivoted, still clutching Idril's hand, and we twirled and fenced, our fingers touching and blades biting one another in a flurry of sparks.

For hours we danced thus, and she would knock my blade from my hand, and I would lean away like a reed and tackle her like a tiger. We rolled in the dust and crushed the grasses, and the hands of Turgon watched and shouted and called advice, at last relaxed that I would not bring harm to their princess.

Sweat covered my body, and from half a dozen places did my blood seep, and on her white garments between the silver plates did stains appear, and who had bled first is unknown, for we did not stop at that mark. Only when both of us were standing idle for a long moment, seeking a weakness and neither finding, did we lower our blades and begin to laugh. I sat on the churned ground, and she tossed down her sword and called truce.

"Morlothiel, you are a skilled fighter, and may I never meet you in the dark forest or beneath moon, for I perceive that only the brilliance of the sunlight has slowed your hand and eye, and given me an edge over you."

"Rondhiel, I would fear meeting you in shade or shine, and a tireless and fell opponent you are. May we never meet in conflict ever, for I know how it would end. Let us cross blades only in sport!"

"It shall be so, DarkElf! Come with me now, and sheath your sword. I have the appetite of ten Elves, and I wish to speak with you on light matters while we dine. Come!"

Leaning upon one another, we staggered back into the city, laughing at the thought of how we must appear, two battle-worn maidens in a city of crystal beauty, dirt on our faces and stones in our boots. My hands were tired, but the itch was gone, and my heart was lighter within me.


	23. Ch 23: DarkElf Goes Native

**DarkElf Goes Native **

Naught around this tale-fire  
Will be told, Avid listener,  
Of the memories and tender moments  
That I shared with a prince  
Of the House of Golden Flowers  
Alas for thee! The DarkElf  
Tells not all her secrets

But how can I leave unsaid  
The nobility of his bearing, that poise  
Could strike a silence even among his own folk  
His hands were strength, and his sword  
Was as an extra length of his own arm  
Fell and skillful and precise  
His feet were swift, and the word Grace  
Could have been made for him alone  
His loyalty and devotion to king and friend  
Were more beautiful than his flawless face  
But what captures me utterly  
His absolute gentleness and  
Love of nature

Let it be said only  
That my days were full of richness  
And splendor, and my nights  
Mystery and music  
As much as I was given, I gave again  
And for all that I gave  
I was returned thrice-fold  
There was no longer any world outside of Gondolin


	24. Ch 24: DarkElf Celebrates Nost a Lothion

**DarkElf Celebrates Nost-a-Lothion **

As the Encircling Hills draw up their white skirts  
Winter ends in Tumlauden  
The green grasses and forests sparkle  
As the valley drinks the mountain's tears  
And feeds the air with potential  
By the fallen trees saplings climb  
Reaching tenatively toward the Sun  
Their fingers unfold

The Birth of Flowers has begun

_Nost-a-Lothion_  
Celebration of Spring  
Where children revel in the gardens of Gondolin  
All are glad of heart  
To see the rebirth of the seasons  
And feel the return of nature's kindness

Sweet rain falls on upturned faces  
Laughing and dancing as the blossoms unfold  
Singing like birds, more natural than speech  
The little ones run on the sward  
Who can spurn their joy?

Sitting in a grove where my Lord has bid me remain  
He watches with me, and laughs with his eyes  
A great bush of leafy finery has he introduced  
But no bloom or petals had it once produced

Until after the Sun has climbed and then reclined  
And Isil assends to make silver the grass  
Then before my shaking eyes do the lilies now yawn  
Drinking moonlight

He says, _"They only bloom in the night. In the daylight they twist their petals shut, and wait until the cool shade to open, perchance to catch a drop of dew."_

"They are lovely! But who ever heard of a flower that shuns the light? It must be magic!" I lean down to brush the pale green petals against my face, smelling the delicate scent.

_"No, just a beautiful difference."_


	25. Ch 25: DE Observes the Coming of Tuor

**DarkElf Observes the Coming of Tuor**

One day across the level plain  
Did a Man come, tall and fair but worn  
Long leagues were on him, and the hand of  
Powers guided his speech  
Turgon heard his message and heeded it not  
But in his words I heard the Voice  
Once I had heard beside rivers of Teiglin and Sirion,  
But did not understand  
And listening to his speech, I knew then  
In my heart Gondolin would not forever stand

But far away seemed my fear, only wakened  
From its sleep, and I looked upon this place  
My home, and could not see it blackened, ruined  
I looked upon this people, my folk now and  
I could not see them defeated  
My fear slept again, but uneasily  
And with dreams of darkness it cried faintly within


	26. Ch 26: DarkElf Encounters Maeglin

**DarkElf Encounters Maeglin**

Great welcome did Turgon offer to Tuor  
And the strength of Lothengriol impressed him  
Homeless and now without direction  
His errand seeming spent  
He looked upon the white city on the plain  
And found a place for himself  
Idril looked upon him  
And in him found a place  
For her wild heart

Little did this please the king's nephew  
Oft I had seen him, ever keeping to Turgon's side  
When he was not lurking in the shadows  
Watching Idril with eyes that would possess  
I saw him, for ever my eye is for the dark  
And he was ever dark, though his face was fair and bright  
I could see as though his heart was palpable  
He had great desire for his cousin  
Who regarded him not but with disdain  
And now he had lost her to a Man

I had lost her too, though for me it was a joy  
To see her face alight with love  
And hear her singing with him, a harmony of union  
A frequent visitor I was to their house  
Though less often did we fence as of old  
With great happiness did I hold their firstborn  
A child of such beauty that could never be surpassed  
Eärendil, son of Idril and Tuor

To let the family alone with their joy  
I would to the wildness repair  
Taking a turn on the watching of the Hills  
Or simply wandering the beauty of the valley  
There I met Maeglin on fated day  
As he returned from an errand in the hills  
As ever he was wont, searching for ores  
But now he was alone, and harried  
Some darkness devouring his soul  
He stared at me with eyes of guilt  
And stayed me with a rough hand

_"How comes you to this path? Why travel you here?"_ He asked sharply, and his fingers were crushing, closing over my arm.

I twisted free, appalled at his display. _"What business is it to the nephew of the king what I do in the wild? As much or more freedom do I have than thee, Maeglin son of Eol. Where farest thou? From what terror do you flee?"_ I could see the fear in his eyes.

Refusing to answer he brushed past, hurrying toward the city followed by the shades of his thoughts. I shrugged after him and dismissed the insult, thinking him but pining still for Idril. So soft I have become! Once I would have accepted only blood in repayment for such abuse.

Later I saw him, and heard comments from all that the nephew of the king had mellowed. Indeed it seemed to be so, for he smiled more, and spoke softly, though still with conviction and wisdom. His eyes still touched upon Idril with longing, but no confrontation came between him and Tuor her husband. And when his eyes did light upon me, I saw a gleam of malice, quickly hooded.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Here I wish to insert a comment, to direct one who might wish to find an adventure aside. I departed from poetry completely to produce an story-length adventure called 'The Coat of Eärendil', which can be found here in FF net by those who wish to read it. In the timeline of Morlothiels adventures, that story unfolds from here. Following DarkElf poems will contain some details of this adventure._

_The next DarkElf poem begins the series 'The Fall of Gondolin', a very grim adventure indeed._

_-Loth_


	27. Ch 27: Tarnin Austa

**The Fall of Gondolin  
Tarnin Austa**

In a garden in the Palace grounds  
A DarkElf waits with bated breath  
A promise made long ago  
Comes after this night to fruition  
My lord watches with me and waits  
To hear at last from my reticent lips  
Answers he has longed to learn  
And on the dawning of the Gates of Summer,  
I have promised to speak

But at that hour, as darkness claimed the sky  
We walked in gardens while Gondolin murmured  
With low music unjoined by voices  
All the folk are lined about the walls of the city  
Looking up and waiting for the hours of morning to come  
Culling a private moment in the sweet gardens  
We do not note the growing light  
Until our shadows fall redly on the flowers  
Northward the dawn seems to be coming  
And in an hour unusual  
Wonder turns to dread, and horns call  
And soon the streets are awake with cries  
Of fear and panic among the folk

My heart is constricted; knowing  
That this hour would come could not  
Prepare me for the dread of loss  
I am a hunter, and life never ceases changing  
But I have grown to love the abiding loveliness  
That I knew would now be blackened and brought low

Not unprepared would Morgoth find us!  
Together we run, to gird ourselves for battle  
I dress my lord in his golden mail, covering  
His shoulders with a mantle of woven gold  
He girds me with a sword, worrying that I have no armour  
One touch on the cheek, one taste of tenderness,  
And we are parted, I running south to Tuor's house,  
Glorfindel to gather the Golden Flower to the aid of Turgon


	28. Ch 28: The Way of Arches

**The Fall of Gondolin  
The Way of Arches  
**

To Idril's house I make no speed  
In streets choked with milling folk  
To come there quicker I take to roofs  
Leaping with ease to eaves to gambol  
My feet lighter than my heart

For ever have I grown more suspicious  
Of Maeglin's close council  
And his seeming mellowness  
Since his overlong sojourn in the hills  
He smiles with artifice  
And his eyes dwell on Idril with intent  
That is unchanged  
And upon me with malice increased

But my fear is not for myself this night  
All things that are precious are in peril  
In Tuor's House dwell not just my friends  
But Eärendil the Promised  
And little Jacinth, merely a babe  
Of my flesh joined by heart  
Dwelling with Idril in care of the nurse Meleth  
All must escape this night of horror

The Way of Arches is thick with smoke  
A burning has been set in the city  
Blinking tears I see a shape ahead  
That brings my steps short and chills me  
Maeglin with his eyes glinting in the red skies  
Waiting with his black sword bare  
Fully intent on his menace  
I do not sense his confederates  
Until their iron claws close and I am caught

Maeglin comes and lays his blade  
Against my throat, where it whispers of its thirst  
He says "Shall I cut your secrets from you?  
All of the conspiracies are ashes now.  
Speak! And if your truth pleases me  
I shall grant you a clean death"

With loathing in my heart I answer  
Without my voice, an audible thought  
That the perceptive elf hears as clear as bells  
_'Thou art cursed, Maeglin son of Eol.'_

He draws back as if dealt a blow  
Almost I can see tears in his eyes  
Blank of mercy and passion  
A small dagger he hands to one of the orcs  
"This truth does not please me.  
Cut out her tongue and  
Throw her from the walls"

And so it was done


	29. Ch 29: Amon Gwareth

**Author's Note:** _I know that this tale is an uncomfortable one to read; many tears have I shed in exploring this epic.  
Gondolin's glory was great, as was its fall. These are the brave tales...._

**The Fall of Gondolin  
Amon Gwareth**

Awareness of heat and noise  
Crushing like piled rock  
It is all that I know other than  
The taste of my own blood  
Even my pain seems remote

I lie beyond Amon Gwareth  
That rises above like a mountain of fire  
I have fallen or been dragged  
To a great mound of carrion  
Orc bodies, used as a barrier  
Against the deadly hail from the fortress  
It will not be my grave today

The maurauders are mad for their prey  
Heedless of the broken elf  
Crawling beyond the glow of their fires  
Somehow avoiding the feet of the Dragons  
No death while hope survives  
_Tuor would not fail us_  
I must make my way to the Secret Way  
At least to witness their escape

But hearty as long life has made me  
It is too much a trial  
I cannot draw myself on  
Cannot let go of my hope  
Faces swim in the opaque airs  
To torment and to entice  
If I let my eyes close I might see him

_Raising her in his arms that day she was born  
His smile brighter than ever I had seen  
"Jacinth. What a beautiful name!"_

Hands lifting me away from my memories  
I fight with what fury I have left  
But easily am I taken up  
"She's still alive!" a merry voice calls  
The face I see is Hendor the house-carle  
The voice is Eärendil

Not even death can keep me from hope now


	30. Ch 30: Under the Wing

**The Fall of Gondolin  
Under the Wing  
**

Throughout the flight I am barely aware  
Besieged by pain and borne like a sack  
I hear the wolves, smell their coming  
With a borrowed sword I join the stand  
Finding will and strength in fighting

Strange how the dancing brings me back  
And as our futile-seeming bid for escape pales  
And we are whittled down  
I feel that my sinews have become like steel  
And my heart of stone  
And I seek for my next foe  
Even as I slay the last  
Back to back with Hendor now  
Eärendil on his shoulder points  
Crying out not in fear but wonder  
As the Wing sweeps our enemies away

My sword becomes a prop  
As my knees sag and I collapse  
My head is still up  
I watch Tuor accept his son  
And grateful tears shed by the father  
Bring a heaviness to my soul at last  
And my eyes fail as I look back  
And see the Flower of the Plains burning  
How many did not escape?

_A glimmer of gold sparks in my eyes  
Small arms around my neck to my surprise  
A dream that is not a dream before me appears  
Tis Glorfindel and Jacinth, against all my fears _


	31. Ch 31: Crissaegrim

**The Fall of Gondolin  
Crissaegrim and the Fall of Glorfindel the Golden**

There is a stone in my mouth  
Gentle hands have placed there  
His face is tight with distress and worry  
But love shines in his eyes  
Even looking upon the wreck of me

He will never now hear those words I would speak  
_Be not silent while you have time and heart to sing_  
A lesson learned late, pride and honour betrayed  
I cannot express what my heart dictates  
Tongues can sell falsehood that the soul refuses

He says he knows, that he knew from the first  
And tenderly he gives me the healing I need  
As we pause before the night crossing through Crissaegrim  
Our only lamps the bright eyes of  
Legolas Greenleaf the night-sighted  
Who leads our ragged parade through the Eagle's Pass

My lord follows in the rearguard  
After setting a kiss on Jacinth's brow  
Meleth is weeping though she holds the babe close  
I will see them free if I have to carve a path  
Through the very heart of Echoriath

In that treacherous place we are ambushed,  
Orcs fall on the unarmed maids and children  
But valourous are the folk, and though many are slain  
The orcs are defeated  
But behind comes an evil press  
And the flames reveal a terror greater  
Than a long fall to sharp stone

A Balrog has come, and before my eyes  
I see my lord fight that demon alone  
And dealt him his death with a fierceness  
But as he falls, that creature of horror,  
He closed his black hand in strands of gold  
And pulled Glorfindel down to join him in doom

I will follow him into the abyss!  
But strong hands catch my cloak and hold  
A flower of fire blooms out of the gorge  
And rising above it rides an Eagle  
Bearing a burden that breaks my heart

We built a cairn for him in that high place  
The stones placed there were as anchors  
That I cast off, my spirit adrift on a sea of grief  
He flies to the Halls, to the mansions in the West  
And dwells there until I might come  
Or he, perhaps, returns

I seek our daughter and wrap her  
In a cloak of gold singed and stained  
And leaving a kiss smeared on her fair cheek,  
I take up his blackened sword  
Wipe it clean to behold its demasked beauty  
And begin my task  
Becoming the silent hunter again

* * *

_Here ends the Tale of The Fall of Gondolin, seen through the eyes of Morlothiel, the DarkElf.  
Her adventures will continue, for you see, she is waiting for something now..._


End file.
